Sherlock Holmes: Behind The Man
by Maggieah
Summary: From Sherlock's point of view, during and after The Reichenbach Fall. How he really feels, reveals his real emotions behind his persona. disclaimer - characters are not mine


Sherlock Holmes: Behind The Man

Standing on the edge of Bartholomew's hospital rooftop, looking down at the man who I let into my life. The cold wind biting at my face; the coat flickering out behind me. I place the phone close to my face, knowing that what I'm about to do will change the people who I care about the most lives for ever. None more so than John's. The only reassurance I have is knowing that they will live and time will heal them. Not much comfort for the foreseeable future.

I try and speak to John in a calm and steady manner, but knowing that every word I say my voice is breaking and tears are creeping down my face. Even from the long distance away I can still see his face – pained, distressed and desperate. I tried to tell him, I tried, but he didn't listen. The man who had caused all this anguish lay dead on the cold, hard rooftop. His lifeless eyes glared out into the hazy blue sky. A single bullet wound marked upon the back of his head, deep red liquid seeped across the dull, grey ground. The suicide of the villainous Moriarty. His name spread fear into the hearts of many. He framed me, cornered me and now I must leave and lie to the world. Soon my time was up and I had to do the dreaded deed.

Phone fell to the ground, arms spread wide, the rush of fast flowing air whistled past my body. I heard John scream my name.

Soon after my apparent death I watched John and Mrs Hudson at my grave. Grieving for a man who was not gone. I've never felt such emotions like that, not for a long time anyway. I usually keep them hidden, out of sight, especially after the incident from my troubled past. But all the while I so desperately wanted to say something. To just say anything. Say sorry. I didn't. I walked away, out of their lives for who knows how long. It hurt so much, I never thought it would end like this. I expected that I would have a short life, knowing the risks and dangers this job encounters, but I didn't think for one second that I would have had to deceive the people who care about me.

As I strolled away back into the shadows my mind drifted to the distance past and I couldn't help but wonder if the events in my life made me who I am today. I thought about Mycroft and how our relationship turned so bitter, how I met Molly and why Mrs Hudson puts up with me and I thought about John.

Why did he want to be a part of my life? Most people turn the other way even before I've opened my mouth but John was different. I liked the way he was impressed by my deductions and actually wanted to spend time with me, but I never let it show. He was the first person who actually liked me for being _me_. He was a good friend; he was my best friend and I hope that one day I will be able to return and ask for his forgiveness.

The sun started to fade on a chaotic London. The city skyscrapers loomed over the hustle and bustle of London life like sleeping giants. Street lamps flickered on and people headed home after some evening shopping, back into the comfort and security of their apartments. I imagined myself going back to 221B Baker Street after a long day solving a case. John nagging at me to do some shopping and Mrs Hudson complaining about my experiments. Just to slump in my chair or play the violin would feel like heaven right now, but that's not going to happen. Instead I find a quiet little alley way and bunker down for the night. Cold and for the first time in a long time alone, I slowly drift off into a light slumber.

One week later I head back to the grave where I was supposedly laid to rest. Four in the morning and all was deserted, only a few flowers littered the ground where the coffin was buried. A message from Mrs Hudson –

_Sherlock dear, it's been very different since you've gone. John has left the flat but still pays for the rent along with the help of Mycroft. It is so quiet without_ _you making a nuisance of yourself at god knows what time in the morning. I do miss you though Sherlock. Thank you for everything._

_Mrs Hudson X_

A message from Lestrade –

_Sherlock!_

_It's been hard without you pointing us in the right direction, even Anderson said that this would be easier if you were here. Molly came to see how we were doing. She misses you loads! I'm sorry that it ended like this._

_Gregg._

And a message from John –

_To Sherlock,_

_It's been really tough without you. I'm sorry but I had to leave the flat. I can't stay there, too many memories. I'm still paying the rent with help from Mycroft. We both decided that that was the best decision and Mrs Hudson was glad to. I don't think she could have coped with someone else living there. I'm still hopeful you know. That you might return. The only problem is that every day that goes by my hope dies just a little more. I'm still angry with you Sherlock. I know that you were lying to me about the things you said on that rooftop because I've gone over and over it in my head. You couldn't have researched me because you didn't know I was coming. Mike even said that he didn't tell you. So the final problem is why did you lie to me? Suppose I will never know._

_Goodbye Sherlock. I miss you._

_John x_

Crouched above the grave a tear ran down my face. I didn't realize how much I meant to them. I knew they cared for me but-

I stopped. Footsteps were to be heard coming down the path. 6am I had been there two hours. London would be wide awake now. I stealthily made my way to undergrowth and laid low. A small man arrived at my grave. John. He stooped down and picked up the label that I had read. He looked around. He knew someone had read it. Thankfully he didn't see me and placed a new set of flowers on the brown earth. With a salute and straightening of his jacket he marched off. I waited a few minutes before revealing myself. I needed to make sure John was gone as I had aroused suspicion with leaving the card like that. I checked around and reproached the grave. John had left three large lilies and a message on some blue paper.

_Goodbye Sherlock._

He had accepted that I was gone. I ripped the little blue piece of paper from its tag and placed it in my pocket. I'm so sorry John. I'm so sorry. Goodbye my dear friend.

Closing my eyes and clenching of my fists, I walked away.

Snowflakes danced down and hit the ground. The chilly air swept through the bare, frost covered trees. The winter sun crackled through the London scene. Morning had arrived. Looking across at once what I called home the yellow light shined bright from the window. Two silhouettes were seen – John and Mrs Hudson. One last farewell and I slipped back into murky surroundings of London.


End file.
